


Strip the Willow

by TheSingerThatYouWanted (orphan_account)



Category: All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: If you don't know Scottish dances I apologise if this gets confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSingerThatYouWanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>When I'm bored I have a tendency to imagine how my favourite band members might act in the same situation as me. I was at a ceilidh. Things got a bit out of hand.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Strip the Willow

**Author's Note:**

> When I'm bored I have a tendency to imagine how my favourite band members might act in the same situation as me. I was at a ceilidh. Things got a bit out of hand.

Frank hummed quietly to himself as he looked in the mirror, absent-mindedly straightening his tie and surveying his appearance critically. He was just debating whether or not to wear eyeliner- hey, the emo life could be tough sometimes- when a yell from the other end of the tour bus startled him, making him drop the makeup in the sink.

"Dude," yelled Gerard. "What the fuck is this?"

A grin flickered across Frank's face, but he managed to keep his voice neutral as he called back.

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," said Gerard angrily, stepping out of the bus' tiny bathroom to glare at the guitarist. Frank smirked, prompting another yell.

"I am not going to this party in a skirt. No fucking way."

Frank simply grinned, rolling his eyes and slipping his phone into his pocket. He reached across to pick up the jacket he'd tossed across a seat.

"Ready to go?" he asked innocently. He turned to leave without waiting for a reply, trusting that Gerard would follow him. Sure enough, the sound of reluctant footsteps came reluctantly after him.

"You promised you'd sort it," whined Gerard. "You said you'd get us nice clothes for the party."

"It's a ceilidh," corrected Frank. He could practically hear his friend's scowl.

"I don't care what the damn thing's called. I care that you have rented for me, for the night, a skirt."

"It's a kilt, and it's traditional," Frank told him as they left the car park and began to walk down the dimly-lit road towards the town hall where the ceilidh was being held. Mikey and Ray were already there, assuming they hadn't got lost.

"Yeah- traditional for Scottish people. I'm not Scottish."

Frank sighed, drawing his jacket a little tighter around his shoulders against the chilly night air.

"Gerard. Just... be polite, okay? Just for tonight."

"You're not wearing one."

"They didn't have one in my size."

Gerard kicked sullenly at some pebbles, but fell silent. They fell into step side-by-side, not speaking for several seconds. A cool breeze rippled through the air and Frank saw Gerard shiver.

"You know, a true Scotsman doesn't wear anything under his kilt," he commented, hoping to cheer his friend up. The singer laughed, and Frank grinned.

"Fuck that," he said. "I'm cold enough as it is."

Frank laughed, and it was in a more companionable silence that they walked up to the town hall. The faint sound of music drifted from inside, and as they were about to enter Gerard froze.

"I can't do this," he said, shaking his head. "I'm wearing a skirt. I've not gone out in a skirt since I was a teenager, and it was one time, and it was an interesting experiment but frankly I don't want to repeat it. Look, you just... Just go without me. I'll meet you guys back at the van when you get home."

Frank's forehead creased in concern.

"C'mon, G. You'll be fine. There'll be people we know, and I bet they'll be wearing kilts too."

Gerard stood his ground for a few more minutes, but eventually Frank's promises of food and laughter proved more tempting than the cold night and he agreed to join in. Frank held the door for his friend to enter, smiling and shaking his head behind Gerard's back. God, but the man could be childish sometimes.

A fierce warmth enveloped them as soon as they stepped into the main hall. The room, though quite large, was packed full of people and Frank reflexively glanced at Gerard to make sure the crowd wasn't freaking him out. To his relief, the singer seemed to be coping well. He was even smiling.

"It's like a weird concert," he said in response to Frank's questioning look. Looking around him, the shorter man found he had to agree. The music was loud, the dancing riotous, talk and beer passing around the room in equal measure. There was a small bar in one corner of the room, and it was there that Frank spotted Ray and Mikey. They were chatting to Pete, and two other people that Frank didn't immediately recognise. One of the newcomers was wearing a kilt- not as nice, in Frank's opinion, as the one he'd picked out, but a kilt all the same. He turned to look for Gerard so he could point this out only to find the taller man mid-conversation with a familiar face. It was John, the event manager who had invited them to the party. He smiled when he saw Frank and gestured for him to join them.

"So what do you think?" he asked, looking around the room. "Do we Scots know how to party or what?"

"Ask me when I'm drunk," Frank said, and John laughed loudly.

"I was just complimenting Gerard on his choice to wear a kilt. It's nice to see people making an effort."

Here John lowered his voice and winked.

"That's what I tell the PR people. Really I just enjoy seeing people who aren't used to wearing kilts trying to look natural in one. Still," he said, raising his voice again and slapping Gerard on the shoulder, "I am glad you're joining in. But are you a true Scotsman?"

Gerard blushed slightly and Frank laughed.

"Ask me when he's drunk," he told John with a wink. The host laughed and disappeared back into the swirling mass of guests, and Frank made his way to the edge of the dancefloor while Gerard headed straight for the bar. On a small stage a caller was shouting out the name of the next dance and talking people through the steps. Suddenly there was a collective cheer from the crowd and Frank was bundled forward and onto the dancefloor before he had time to protest. He grabbed Gerard's sleeve as they whirled past, tugging him onto the floor as well, if only so that someone he knew was there.

"What are we doing?" asked Gerard with a frown as everybody began to take up their positions.

"I think it's called Strip The Willow," said Frank. "And I'm pretty sure you're the girl."

Gerard looked around in a panic, trying to get back to the bar, but there's no escaping a horde of determined Scots. He was stuck in the dance whether he liked it or not.Frank barely had time to laugh at him before the band took up their instruments and the dance began.

At first he listened intently to the caller and watched the other dancers. He wanted some idea of what he was in for, and he had to admit it seemed kinda fun. Then it was his turn. Frank joined hands with Gerard at the top of the line, and they began to spin furiously. Gerard was annoyed that he was being made to join in and clearly hoped to throw Frank off-balance; Frank was just having fun. They followed their instructions as best they could, which admittedly wasn't all that well seeing as they were both dizzy and confused. Frank stumbled more than once, laughing when Gerard was half-flung across the hall and landed in Frank's arms. The energy of the place was fantastic, the band's music interspersed with cheers and whoops from the dancers as they clapped in time to the beat. Frank grinned, and saw Gerard do the same. And then, after what seemed like a dizzy eternity, the dance was over.

Frank felt as though his legs were going to give out as he staggered over to his friends. Pete was grinning, Mikey and Ray outright laughing at him.

"Nice dancing," said Pete. Frank smirked.

"Dancing? That's not dancing it's fucking terrifying. Beer please."

"How terrifying can a dance be?" cut in Mikey, glancing up briefly as Gerard wandered slightly unsteadily over to them.

"Join in with one and you'll find out. Seriously, someone, beer please. I'm dying here."

Ray smiled and turned around to order the drinks. Frank leaned back against the bar's polished wooden surface and looked around the room, picking out familiar faces. Jack and Alex- both in kilts- were up on the floor for the next dance, talking and laughing easily while they waited. Near them on the dancefloor were the two people that Frank hadn't recognised before. He nudged Mikey.

"Who's the girl over there?" he asked quietly. Mikey followed his gaze.

"Which one?"

"The cute one. Blue hair, the guy she's with has a kilt on. You were talking to them both earlier."

"Oh, that's Hayley. She's in Paramore, and so's Jeremy. That's the guy she's with. Pete knows them both quite well. But if you're hoping to dance with her, forget it. She's just dancing with Jeremy."

"Why? They together?" asked Frank. Mikey shook his head and shrugged.

"Nope. Guess Jeremy's just shy."

Frank nodded his understanding and gratefully accepted the glass of beer Ray handed him. Gerard, now deep in conversation with Pete, was nursing a glass bottle of coke. Frank watched with interest as the band began to play the next song.

"This one's called the Gay Gordons," said the caller, voice slightly fuzzy through the microphone. Mikey huffed out a laugh at the name and Frank aimed an eye-roll and a kick at him before turning back to the dancefloor. The caller was still speaking.

"Is there anyone here who doesn't know how to do this one?"

The room immediately fell to near-silence, and Frank tried not to laugh. These people certainly took their dancing seriously. Everyone took their partners and spread out into a large circle. Frank heard Pete laugh, and after a moment he noticed why. Patrick. The poor guy was trying to dance with a stranger who was almost twice his height. Being the guy, he was supposed to be able to twirl his partner under his arm. Instead he was being practically lifted off his feet by the enthusiastically spinning woman. The effect was glorious, and sent dancers staggering and leaping off in all directions as they tried to avoid him. Pete's laughter was loud and infectious, and soon Ray was giggling along with him. Even Mikey cracked a smile. In sharp contrast to the mess the Fall Out Boy frontman was making, Hayley and Jeremy were dancing as though it was the easiest thing in the world. Both of them were laughing, and Frank smiled. He was going to have to ask Pete to introduce him.

He drank his beer slowly, listening to Pete telling him funny stories (of which there were many) but still keeping half an eye on the dancefloor. Brendon had arrived late, but he was certainly making up for lost time. His dancing was shaky at first, but before long he was spinning around the room with the best of them. Frank grinned, then spotted Billie Joe weaving his way through the crowd and flirting with more or less everyone until he reached the bar.

"Hey, Frank," he said with a grin, plucking the beer straight from Frank's hand and downing it before he had a chance to protest.

"Cheers," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and laughing. "Good party, huh?"

"Hell yeah it is. Room full of hot men in skirts? I'm just trying to figure out how best to make enough of a draught."

Billie laughed, stepping closer to the other guitarist.

"So, you gonna take me up on my offer yet? No strings attatched, just a bit of fun. Or are you still 'taken'?"

"You say that so sceptically."

Billie rolled his eyes.

"Well it's not like you've given me reason to think otherwise. I won't believe you until you introduce me."

Frank shook his head, looking back out at the dancers.

"Not gonna happen."

"Why? Is it someone I know?"

"Not happening, Billie."

He sighed, throwing his hands up in mock despair.

"Well, I tried."

"Yes you did. Tell you what, though, I'll make it up to you."

Frank turned to face Billie, offering him his hand and raising an eyebrow.

"May I have this dance?"

Billie placed his hand in Frank's with a grin.

"Oh, you do know how to charm a man. Go on then."

"God, you're so camp," laughed Frank. "C'mon. And you lot get over here as well," he added, talking to Gerard and the others. "We need six for this one."

With varying degrees of reluctance, the six men made their way to the dancefloor. At the caller's instruction they split into two lines of three. Frank stood with Gerard on one side and Billie Joe on the other- "That's a metaphor and a half," he thought- and Mikey stood opposite him, between Ray and Pete. The caller began to explain how the dance would go. It sounded dangerous. A look of silent acknowledgement seemed to pass around the group. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it properly. The music began- a faster tune than even Strip the Willow- and, after a hasty count of eight, so did the dance.

They spun in a circle like there was no tomorrow, laughing and yelling. Mikey lost his footing at least three times within the first fifteen seconds of the dance, and each time Ray grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him upright. Frank's sides ached with laughter, and as he spun between Billie and Gerard he saw that everyone else seemed to be having a similarly good time. In fact, Jack and Alex were getting perhaps a little too carried away- and they were only watching.

"Get a room, guys!" he shouted as they danced past. The only response he recieved was a raised middle finger.

By the time the dance finished everyone on the dancefloor was hot, sweaty, and exhausted. Gerard tapped Frank on the shoulder and gestured towards the door.

"I'm gonna go get some air. Joining me?"

Frank nodded in response, too out of breath to speak. Together they hurried towards the doors, gasping as the chill of the night hit them. It was a welcome relief after the heat of the hall. For a few moments they stood beside each other in silence, watching their breath form clouds in the air.

"This was more fun than I expected," said Gerard after a minute. Frank turned silently to look at him, smiling.

"Even with the kilt?"

"Even with the kilt, you bastard," laughed Gerard, and an odd moment of recklessness filled Frank. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but said nothing. Silence stretched between them, fragile as a thread. It was a silence made of things unsaid, promises never spoken.

Frank turned to face Gerard, almost without thinking. And he said them.

The singer grinned, pulling Frank towards him and leaning down. Their lips met. Frank smiled into the kiss, and was still smiling when they broke apart.

"Is this the part where I find out just how Scottish you really are?" he joked. Gerard grinned mischieviously.

"That part comes later."

Frank laughed and kissed him again. From somewhere behind them came the sound of someone walking through the double doors, then stopping very abruptly.

"Fuck. Me."

"Not now, Billie. Wait your turn," said Frank without looking around. He heard Billie Joe- of course it was him, who else would have followed Frank outside?- laugh, and he turned to face him. Beside him Gerard was blushing furiously, and Frank remembered too late just how embarrassed the singer got at times. He took Gerard's hand and gazed steadily at Billie.

"Believe me yet?" he asked, the tiniest note of a threat in his voice.

"Certainly do," said Billie evenly. "You hid it well. I'd never have guessed you've been together all this time."

Gerard made an odd noise, but thankfully said nothing more. 

"I'll just leave you to it then," said Billie with a grin. He headed back indoors, chuckling quietly. As soon as he was gone, Gerard spun to face Frank.

"What did he mean, 'all this time'? What the fuck have you been telling people?"

"Nothing!" said Frank in a panic. "I just said I didn't want to sleep with him. He assumed I was with someone else. I guess I was, in a way. I was waiting for you."

Gerard smiled.

"You're so sweet it's almost sickening," he told him, laughing. "Now c'mon. You owe me a dance."

**Author's Note:**

> As is hopefully obvious, I have absolutely no control over the people mentioned in this. This story is purely a work of fiction, made to entertain myself through several hours of my family making fools of themselves and dancing like idiots.  
> Feedback is more than welcome if you have any :)


End file.
